


A mage and an elf walk into a bar

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merfolk, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Angst, Apostate branding, Character Death, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, PTSD, Past Abuse, Pet Play, Rimming, Sugar Daddy, Trans Character, Voice Kink, general naughtiness, tags update as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: Collection of Fenders drabbles.





	1. This coffin ain't big enough for the both of us

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these drabbles are old, many of them are a repost, but I required some cleaning up in the mess of my hundreds of drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-17

"Stop _squirming,_ mage!"

"As soon as you stop poking holes in me with sharp extremities," Anders hissed right back, elbowing Fenris in what he intended to be the gut, but turned out a painfully hard breastplate instead. Fenris didn't comment on the attempted assault, but Anders could _feel_ the smugness at his miss radiating from right behind him.

The whole situation was ridiculous, and if Anders wasn't a weathered and experienced Grey Warden who had seen more than his fair share of weird shit, he would be creeped out by it as well. Being locked in an old coffin down in a dark crypt had never been on his to-do list, ever.

But whereas ten years ago he might've pissed himself out of sheer claustrophobia, now he was stuck here with an occasionally glowing elf that kept him well enough distracted. He had no time to be afraid of being locked in a small space when there were various spikes from an unnecessarily flashy and sexy armour poking him painfully in the back.

Of course, Anders had been first to suggest - read: snap angrily - for Fenris to phase out of it and break the coffin open, and despite Fenris' distaste for following a mage's orders, he had tried so promptly. Thing was, they had been down in this crypt to fight demons, and apparently the coffins that lined the walls standing like creepy sentries were demon-proof. And by demon-proof, he meant impenetrable by Fade related entities, like a lyrium elf and a spirit of Justice.

So now they were stuck in here until Hawke returned with some better equipment to break them out. Better than the rusty sword he broke, the skeleton bones he tried, the pickaxe he found near the entrance of the crypt, and the boulder he had tried using as a battering ram.

Anders sincerely hoped he would get out of here before Fenris and he were gone and rotting.

In any case, it was Fenris' fault for grabbing Anders around the waist and backing away from the four demons and one undead who were trying to pounce on the mage at once, without _looking_ how much space there was behind them. _Fenris_ walked them backwards into a coffin and got them trapped in here. _Fenris_ was the one with the spiky armour that made it nigh impossible for Anders to stand here comfortably while they waited for Hawke.

_Fenris_ was the one breathing hotly down Anders' neck, making his hairs in the nape of his neck rise up and an uncomfortable flutter repeat itself in his stomach.

Anders squirmed.

Fenris cursed.

"Andraste's dirty knickers, Fenris! You don't get to curse at me for squirming as long as you're trying to bruise my arse with the hilt of your sword!"

Fenris went awfully quiet and still the moment the accusation left Anders' lips, and for a moment Anders was worried he had gone too far. The coffin may be lyrium-ghost proof, but his body certainly wasn't, and he was not too keen on Hawke opening this death box to have Anders' corpse fall out. His corpse with a gaping hole where his heart should be.

He squirmed until he could reach his arm over his head, trying to touch Fenris - his hair, his shoulder, whatever - in a safe and decent spot to hopefully convey… convey whatever. Convey that they were in this together and to please not kill him. Convey that Fenris would no doubt be even more uncomfortable waiting in here with a cooling corpse bleeding all over him.

What he found first was not Fenris' hair though. What he found first, was the hilt of his greatsword, apparently strapped to his back despite the fact they had stumbled in here fighting.

That raised one big question.

"Fenris… _what_ is that hard thing poking a bruise into my arse…?"

His only response was a small, unintelligible noise.

Well… maybe they could have some fun while waiting in here after all.


	2. Hating and Courting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-15  
> Pairing: pre-Fenders

"Would you just stop that?!"  
Fenris was taken entirely by surprise when Anders suddenly whirled on him, face flushed red with anger.   
All Fenris had done was hold the door open for him to go first. Simple and polite, one of his subtle attempts to try get on the mage's good side.  
They had been at each other's throats for so long, Fenris didn't dare to jump straight into courting Anders. He wasn't sure if he himself would be ready for it even. His realisation of his feelings for the mage were a recent development after all. Only after he finally killed Danarius, and Hawke had spoken to him to say he could do anything he wanted, he was a free man-  
His freedom had opened his eyes for everything he had been suppressing for so long. His enjoyment of fine foods. The pleasures of touch. His opinion of his companion that was also a mage.  
Anders wasn't actually half bad. And handsome.  
And now he was looking very angry.  
"I have no clue as to what you are referring to, mage."  
"This!" Anders gestured angrily at Fenris' hand on the door. The rotting, mouldy door that Fenris really rather stop touching now, but Hawke told them to go look in the ramshackle abandoned shed so he was going to hold this door until Anders entered.  
"Stop mocking me with your pretend-politeness! Am I your next project to kill? Your old master is dead, so you're going to pretend I'm some bastard of a magister until I slip up and take it for granted and prove your point?"  
Fenris found himself uselessly opening and closing his mouth, completely taken off guard. He had not seen this sort of accusation coming at all. Nor had he any idea where it was coming from.  
He was not treating Anders anything like a magister. In fact, a magister would've struck him for opening a door without bowing; or touching them without permission to guide them around a pit in the road, or sharing his food with them rather than providing them with a luxurious meal of their own.  
He was just treating Anders with the basic politeness he had learned to have for a friend, as Hawke and their friends would do to him.  
Okay, maybe holding the door was a bit much, but he was hoping he could extend this politeness to courtship soon.  
"If you're waiting for me to start putting on airs, you can wait for a very long time," Anders hissed viciously. "I know very well how little I'm worth, and your mockery is only rubbing it in, not convincing me otherwise. Go find yourself an actual slaver to rip the heart from. They will actually have a pride to hurt; much more rewarding than a sewer healer."  
"Mag- Anders!"  
Fenris grabbed the mage's shoulder just in time to keep him from stomping off in a different direction.  
It was painful hearing these things. Anders had always seemed like a proud man too, especially where his magic was concerned. To see him drag himself through the mud just to argue why Fenris shouldn't treat him as a friend was... sickening.  
"I am not mocking you," Fenris told him, voice low and earnest. By Anders' face, he wasn't taking it, so Fenris tried to add a bit. "I am not trying to make you a magister. I am trying to make you a friend."  
A friend, and hopefully more one day. Anders' reaction was putting 'one day' pretty far off in the future though.   
"A friend?!" Anders' voice broke, and he tugged on the arm Fenris was gripping. For the first time Fenris was looking in Anders' eyes and found himself confronted with fear.  
"You hate me! You hate my cause, my people, and take every opportunity to argue me! Please excuse me if I don't believe you when you say you want to be friends!"  
"I do not hate you, mage-"  
"No? Just everything I stand for then, my bad." Anders pulled harder, but it was no serious struggle. Fenris had seen the man fight, and he was stronger than he looked. If he was truly fighting Fenris, he'd be feeling it.  
Either he didn't really want to get free, wanted to believe Fenris, or...   
Fenris cringed at the look of fear flashing through Anders' eyes when his grip tightened on the mage's arm.  
...or he was afraid of what Fenris would do to him if he tried to get away.  
"We may disagree, but I am not-"  
"Stuff it, elf." Anders glowered, successfully covering up any fear he may be feeling. But it was too late, because Fenris had seen it.  
He had seen the fear in those eyes; eyes that were so gentle for patients and so hard and angry for Templars and Fenris. Fenris had no idea what he had done to scare the mage, but his subconsciousness was around to remind him that he was 'just a beast. A wild animal. A guard dog of a magister.'  
He let go of Anders' arm, and the mage quickly backed away, in a hurry to put a safe distance between them. Not into the shed they were supposed to check out for Hawke, but away into the open, where he could bolt if need be.  
Fenris was not okay with this.  
"My life has changed, Anders. Why do you refuse to give me the chance to change myself as well?"  
Anders barked a humourless laugh that felt like a knife in the stomach to Fenris. "Your kind doesn't change. You may pretend, but in the end it'll be just a game you played, your opinions no different from before. In the end you'll make me pay for your delusions. Maybe call me a bloodmage and claim I controlled your mind, or maybe just call me a liar. Maybe call me a demon- wait, you already do that, don't you?"  
How was this going downhill so fast, so badly?  
Fenris tried to hold up his hands in a placating gesture, slowly approach the sneering mage. Anders was angry and a powerful mage, but Fenris had stopped fearing his magic long ago. No matter how angry and upset, Anders had proven to never turn on his friends.  
But now Anders looked like he honestly wanted to. And he wasn't about to let Fenris talk anymore.  
Anders spit on the ground before Fenris' feet, and the elf froze. When his eyes raised to meet Anders' again, wide with shock and his unhappiness with the mess of this situation, he saw the mage falter for just a moment. The expression in amber eyes softened for just a moment, as if Fenris was a particularly difficult patient but still one in pain, and then he turned and ran.  
Fenris remained where he was, staring off in the direction the mage had run to.  
Anders intrigued him. Attractive and passionate, a beautiful man inside out.  
And truly, it was just typical that Fenris would fall in love with a man who hated and feared him now he finally had his freedom, shackling him to a mage once more. Just not by the mage's choice, this time.  
Hawke found him some fifteen minutes later, impatient for their return. But all Fenris had to offer for their exploration was that Anders had fled.


	3. Reading out loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18

" _But if he would just stop spouting all his mage hate and say something sexy instead, I swear he would be able to make me soil my smalls._ "

Anders froze, and for several reasons.

The first being the sultry tone of that voice he'd quietly admired for all this time.

The second… those were _his own_ words. 

He turned, slowly, to find one very smug elf perched on the edge of his desk, an old ratty and very familiar binder open in his hand. He was receiving the mother of all smirks from that elf too.

When he was unable to find words - anger? Despair? Soil his smalls like he promised? - Fenris calmly cleared his throat and cast those mesmerising green eyes down at the binder. He flipped a few pages and found a new passage with his finger - and Anders doubted it was going to be one of his manifesto notes.

" _He was going at it again, today. It's infuriating how someone can be blessed with such a voice and cursed with such terrible world views at once. When he speaks like that I just want to kiss him quiet. Or better, sink on my knees and give him the best blowjob he has ever had, so I can still hear his voice but he can't say those disgusting things._ "

"W-where did you get that!?"

He rushed forward to make a grab for the binder, but Fenris smoothly pulled it out of his way, stretching his arm behind him so it was out of reach.

"On your desk."

"Why are you going through my things?" Anders tried to reach for it, but although he had the longer arms, Fenris could hold him at bay with his spare hand as if he weighed nothing.

"Actually, it was my intention to read your manifesto." Anders gave him a shocked, incredulous look, and Fenris had the decency to fluster just a little at that. "I figured I could try and see your point. We have not been fighting as of late and it seemed like a basic courtesy to a friend. It just seems I picked up the wrong papers."

"You could've asked!"

"I did not want you to get smug before I read your argumentation."

Anders flailed for the binder, and for his trouble he got a gentle but firm shove to make him stumble back a few steps. His calves bumped against a cot and suddenly he was sitting down, eyes wide and face flushed. And that damnable smirk was back on Fenris' face.

"Now, where was I?"

Anders made an unintelligible noise as Fenris sought out a new passage- and yet, despite himself, he didn't get up to stop him. If he would get up again… well, with the current distance between them, Fenris would undeniably spot his hard-on if he stood up. And he secretly _wanted_ to hear how far Fenris would go.

Far, considering the smug little raise of an eyebrow with the short look at Anders' silence, and the calm intake of breath before he read the next part.

" _I don't just want him to fuck me. I want him to take me apart. I want him to have undressed me with his eyes alone long before he touches me, and then undo my coat with only the lightest of teasing touches. I want him to skim his fingers over my skin as if I will break, but we both know I won't and he's just doing it to drive me insane._ " There was a pause for a deep hum and Fenris licking his lips, and Anders followed the motion of that pink tongue as if hypnotised. " _Then, after I'm a mess of begging and tears, I want him to bend me over and fuck me up the arse so hard I can taste his cum on my tongue._ "

Anders drew in a shuddering breath. Had he really written that? Well, it wasn't unlikely he had, considering this was definitely one of his fantasies… one of his fantasies he surely hadn't meant Fenris to find out about.

Fingers searched for a new passage and a few pages were turned before Fenris hummed again, clearly pleased by his find. " _Fenris should stop eyeing Hawke like that. He should be eyeing me. My arse, specifically. I didn't wear any smalls for him today, and I wanted nothing more than for him to notice, but he didn't spare me a second glance._ "

Fenris looked up, still smirking. "And now, mage? Are you wearing smalls?"

Anders' breath hitched, and he couldn't find his voice for an answer. He just mutely shook his head, his face feeling like it was on fire.

"Show me." Fenris' voice was a purr, an irresistible sound of liquid arousal and sex.

Anders could not refuse.

With a needy little sound he opened his coat, fingers shaking over the laces of his trousers. They were tented over his erection, undeniably so, and the sound Fenris made at the sight was just sinful.

Sinful and encouraging, so Anders obeyed, shoving his trousers down for his cock to spring free against his stained shirt. No smalls. He never really wore smalls unless he was expecting to need them, like when out 'adventuring' with Hawke.

"Very good," Fenris purred, subtly shifting his perch. Subtly, but not unnoticed. Fenris was not just a little hard himself, and that allowed Anders to brave on and hope… he wouldn't dare to hope for more than not getting his heart torn out after this; he couldn't possible hope for Fenris to actually make one of those many fantasies truth.

" _He was playing his fingers over all sorts of furniture today. Every noble house he found a desk or a chair to fondle. No doubt he was thinking about the poor slave hands who made them or something like that, but he needs to stop this habit. Every piece of furniture Fenris touches, I need him to bend me over and fuck me on._ " He was given a pointed look over the edge of the binder - Maker, Anders was sweating like a madman on judgement - and Fenris finally got some red to his cheeks himself. "I should point out that I was _not_ , in fact, thinking about the poor slaves who made those. Most of them were Free Marcher craft, and thus made by paid Marcher craftsmen. What I _was_ thinking about was their sturdiness, and if they would be able to handle a mage bent over them for a hard pounding."

"F-Fenris…"

The whimper seemed to be enough to break both their resolves.

While Anders scrambled upright, Fenris tossed the binder of papers aside without further care for how the loose sheets scattered. Instead he was already ripping at his own armour before Anders could get his hands on him, kicking off his boots and pants while his fingers struggled frantically with the straps of Fenris' breastplate.

Fenris would not be doing any reading anymore that day. His voice though… his voice was put to a much better use than harping on mages.


	4. Wolf and Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-17  
> Contains shapeshifter/werewolf Fenris and petplay

Contrary to popular belief, werewolves didn't shift from wolf to human form with all clothes included.

There were no hideous smalls to make a sudden appearance, and most certainly not a whole outfit. It was skin to skin, fur to hairless elf. Being a werewolf was not about modesty.

And Maker, did Anders appreciate this perk of Fenris.

In the privacy of his own not owned mansion, Fenris tended to strut around stark naked so he could shift whenever without having to bother with clothes. Anders appreciated this perk in particular.

There was only one downside - it was mostly an upside, but Anders was an envious little mage sometimes. Fenris preferred to shift only _almost_ all the way to elf. He tended to keep just enough of his wolf form for razor sharp canines, fluffy wolf ears and a majestic tail protruding from just above his buttocks.

And Maker, Anders was jealous of that tail.

Luckily, Fenris was more than dumb muscle and fluffy tail, and he not only read Anders' moods and wishes like an open book, he also had the most brilliant ideas to work them.

Anders was ready and waiting for Fenris when he came home that evening.

Anders did not know where he went, but when he came to the mansion he found Fenris' armour and sword on their stand, so wherever his lover had gone, it had been in wolf form. Anders knew not to expect him home before dark, if that was the case. It was one thing to be an elf squatting in a noble's abandoned mansion in Kirkwall, but another thing entirely to run through Hightown as a large white wolf by broad daylight.

So Anders had all the time to prepare, as well as to curl up om Fenris' bed for a good nap until his werewolf would return. It was long since he'd been troubled by the plug holding his very own tail in place (it was really rather tiny compared to Fenris' marvellous assets) and if the headband with cat ears fell off, then so be it.

He was fast asleep when Fenris found him, so he was awakened not by Fenris' entry but by the smell of food.

Anders lifted his head and sniffed the air before he could think about his behaviour, his demeanour automatically falling into that of a pet. A cat pet.

He heard the rumble of Fenris muffling his laughter and Anders was up on hands and knees immediately, wobbling for a moment with sleep but crawling to the edge of the bed with the intention to clamber off and to Fenris straight away.

Fenris stopped him with a chuckle and a hand held up. "No, stay kitty. I'll bring you your food. I caught a hare today."

Anders mouth watered, but he sat back obediently, eyes switching between focusing on the bowl of food Fenris was bringing him and the way the wolf's tail swished.

Normally he would've pounced the tail - he loved that tail and it would start wagging when he batted at it mewling - but the smell of the meat was just too good to ignore. So he waited until Fenris held the bowl before him where he could lick and bite it straight from the bowl for a while.

Sadly, he would never truly be able to eat as elegant and clean as a real cat. When he was halfway the bowl he had to stop if only to breathe, and Fenris gently wiped his face clean for him before feeding him the rest from his fingers.

After Fenris' thoughtful help with his meal, Anders sat back to give his face a proper cleaning while Fenris ate his own portion.

The true surprise came after that.

When Fenris finished eating and put the bowls away, he knelt down on the carpet. Anders studiously ignored him a little longer in favour of his long clean face, until he spotted the movement of something bright yellow from the corner of his eyes.

He perked up, suddenly focused on the toy mouse dangling from Fenris' hand.

He all but pounced, biting down his 'ouch' when his knees hit the floor harder than expected, and was on Fenris and the toy within seconds.

He batted at the toy with curled fingers, not truly trying to grab it but loving the way it swung by the tail. Fenris lifted the toy a little higher and Anders meowed loudly, sitting up on his knees to grab at the toy with both clawed hands and drag it back down.

Fenris allowed it, but didn't release the toy, so Anders rolled onto his back to bat at the wriggling toy upside down. From this angle, he could perfectly see the wide grin on Fenris' face. Not a mean smirk, but a happy, entertained grin.

Anders meowed again to try make Fenris laugh openly.

Rather than that, he found Fenris' free hand suddenly stroking his hair, scratching behind a fake ear for a moment before he lightly dragged his fingers down Anders' chest.

Anderd shivered in delight, the toy forgotten in favour of petting. He stretched invitingly for the hand to explore.

"Has this kitty been lonely?" Fenris asked with a low rumble, making Anders squirm happily before managing to pout and nod.

"Can I make it up to the kitty with cuddling and petting?" The toy was discarded, both hands now gently sliding over his skin, one dipping lower suggestively.

Anders rounded his lips for a deep, convincing purr in response.

Just when Fenris' hand was about to reach between his legs, he grinned. With a quick movement he lashed out to grab the wolf's tail when it was at its closest in its wagging, clinging to it immediately with a proud noise.

Fenris laughed, and it was the most beautiful noise he could make.

What Anders loved most about these tails was exactly that: Fenris' laughter.


	5. Sweet as sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-17  
> Please don't take a lesson from this drabble and do not negotiate your kinks while implementing them simultaneously

"I will buy it for you."

Anders stopped fondling the soft wool of the black cloak, turning just his head to give Fenris an incredulous look. Sure, he had been lamenting about not having the money for such a quality garment, but for Fenris to suddenly offer that?

When Fenris' face flushed with embarrassment - he didn't fidget under Anders' judging look though, he'd have to give him that - Anders figured he was serious.

"You don't need to. Just because I let you stick your dick in my arse now doesn't mean you have to repay me with gifts."

"But I want to."

Fenris' face was turning an even brighter shade of red, and the tips of his ears - burning, by the look of them - sank lower and lower. But he wasn't taking his offer back.

"You want to treat me like a prostitute?" Anders cocked an eyebrow, challenging. This was a low blow and he knew it, but he and Fenris were only barely to be called 'on good terms'. This was the first time they were spending time together without Hawke, and without at least one cock out and hard.

"I want to spoil you. I want to… I do not want to simply use you. I am grateful and want to-"

Anders held up a hand to interrupt, frowning deeply. "Grateful? You think I'm coming to you to endure a fucking just to please you and not myself? Fenris, please, even I am not that selfless."

Fenris snorted nervously, finally giving in to a small shuffle of his feet in his embarrassment. Just for a moment though, he had himself under control again immediately after.

"I know, and that is not what I meant to imply. I just…" He sighed, looking incredibly frustrated with his own lack of words. Fenris dragged his fingers through his hair - Anders' eyes followed, oh he wished those were his own fingers - and he shook his head as if to shake off whatever was holding him back. "It has been something of a dream of mine. I am a free man, and able to provide for myself easily. I simply want to provide for another as well, someone who is just as free as I am, who has no obligation to do as I ask, but will still let me take care of them. And you seem perfect, depriving yourself of worldly pleasures by spending all you have on your clinic, so I just want to spoil you. As you would not take anything for yourself-" he faltered again, but his message was clear.

Oh, it was quite clear, and Anders was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You want to be my sugar daddy."

Fenris spluttered for a moment before managing to reign himself in, but Anders was already on him, pushing him back against the wall of the shop, straight into his personal space like neither had ever dared in public. He was still smirking, licking his lips, rolling his hips suggestively against Fenris' belly. "You want to be the sugar daddy to a spoiled princess, and you think I'm perfect to play the part, hm? Well, I think we can arrange that, _daddy_."

Fenris quickly pushed Anders at arm's length, shaking his head hard. "Do _not-_ please do not call me that!"

"No daddy?" Anders tapped one finger against his lips, looking more mischievous than ever. "But you _do_ want a spoiled princess then? Very well, you have a deal. You can be my sugar daddy and spoil me rotten for as long as you like, and I'll be a good little brat for you, but under one condition. When we are with friends- no, when I say something that is clearly not meant to tease, I want you to take me seriously. Don't brush off my talk about mage rights as in character antics."

"You would not force me to agree with your views, though?" The question was instant, and Fenris' eyes calculating. It was interesting to know that Anders had managed to hit the nail right on the head while trying to be provocative.

"No forcing you to agree, just agreeing you will take me seriously. Never forget I'm an actual person outside of this arrangement."

"Absolutely," Fenris agreed, without missing a beat. "That is, in fact, my most important prerequisite for an arrangement such as this. I do not wish to own you, mage."

"Good." Anders leaned in and pecked Fenris' lips, feeling the heat of Fenris' embarrassment so close to his cheeks. "Then would you please buy me the pretty cloak, _daddy_?"

"No 'daddy'," Fenris choked, and Anders stepped away laughing.

"Okay okay, no daddy, fine. What do you want me to call you instead?"

"Fenris is just fine." Anders chuckled as he followed the elf's fast steps back to the table with the cloaks to grab the top one that Anders had been admiring before. He smirked again at the sight of the shopkeeper - pale and wide-eyed like he'd just seen a ghost, although it was more likely he overheard the entire conversation they had just now. Fenris paid quickly, he and the shopkeep both equally eager for them to get out, and then herded the mage out the door.

Anders breathed in the fresh spring air deeply, his smile losing the mischief for just _happiness_. Freedom. A lover by his side, even if they had yet to speak that word.

And then Fenris cleared his throat beside him, straightening up to try push away the embarrassed shyness he'd shown in the shop, and offered his arm to Anders.

And just then, there wasn't a place Anders would rather be, and with nobody other than Fenris.


	6. Suspension training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18

"Maker's breath, what are you doing?"

Fenris didn't immediately answer him, giving Anders the time to step closer and give the elf a good look.

A _good look_. Knickerweasles, that elf was shredded. Upside down, legs hooked over a horizontal bar by the knees, doing what looked like sit-ups…. Upside down. Shirtless and slick with sweat. Made Anders want to lick him.

Just when he was sure he was starting to salivate, Fenris stopped pulling himself up, breathing heavily while he hung nearly limp, arms crossed over his chest. Abs still free, hmmm abs…

"What does it look like I'm doing, mage?"

"….trying to achieve a headrush?" It sure worked on Anders. He felt like all the blood was in his face… and his cock. Half half there. Even the angry glare couldn't put him off with this delicious view right here.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "This is a training exercise. You may not believe me when I say the skills of a warrior are not borne from our fingertips without practice, like magic. It takes extensive training and focus-"

"-myeah, focus…" Anders would not admit later to the dreamy tone at which he'd parroted Fenris - nor would he admit he failed to argue Fenris' implication that magic was a skill that needed no practice. There were many things he would not be admitting about this if questioned, but for now Fenris was giving him a suspicious look rather than outright questioning him.

"I-I know," Anders quickly said. Hoping that would answer whatever question Fenris had asked. Did he ask a question? Maker, how was Anders supposed to pay attention when he had those abs in front of his face, ripe for the licking?

"What do you know, mage?"

Anders faltered, called out on his bluff. And Fenris knew it, with that smug little smirk of his.

"What is it mage, are you distracted?"

He huffed and pointedly looked away - some old paintings that had fallen off the wall by themselves, gnawed through by some rodent. What a waste. Good thing to look at. "Not at all, why would you think that?"

"Not if you look the other way, indeed." The purr from Fenris' lips drew a full-body shudder down Anders' spine, and when he quickly turned back to the half-naked elf he was met with a hand touching his jaw. "Step a little closer, mage. Can you truly resist temptation, like you always claim?"

"Now you're just mocking me." But Anders did step closer until he could breathe in the musky scent of _Fenris_ and sweat and lyrium. "I resist the temptation demons place before me. Nobody ever said I had to resist temptations of the flesh like Sebastian."

Fenris chuckled, and it made Anders feel a little light-headed. The elf didn't normally laugh for him. Sure, they weren't bickering constantly anymore like they used to, but he was fairly certain Fenris still didn't like him. Or he _was_ fairly certain, up until now.

He was just here to bring a message from Hawke on his way back home. A little detour, but Hawke was so tired, it didn't even occur to Anders to let the man go himself. Other than that, he had no reason to be in Fenris' mansion - never had a reason to be in Fenris' mansion. They weren't friends. They were partners on the battlefield, at best.

Nevermind the little unrequited crush Anders was sporting on the handsome warrior elf and his skin full of lyrium. It was just sexual anyway - _mostly_ sexual, anyway. So he liked the man's wit too, who cared? He could hardly go professing his love for a mage-hater as soon as the guy wasn't actively trying to hurt him anymore.

But this… this was more than 'not actively trying to hurt him'. This was… an invitation. Literally, in so many words. Fenris had _literally_ asked him to step closer when he caught him ogling him.

And now he was running his hands up and down Anders' sleeves, still upside down and smirking.

"Tell me what you want, before I do something stupid and get my heart ripped out." Anders swallowed heavily, but Fenris' smirk turned to an indulgent smile.

"You were watching me, mage. Like you wanted to touch. I'm offering."

"I didn't expect you to _like_ being ogled like a piece of meat," Anders blurted, despite knowing better. _Fool fool, foolish fool-_

"You were not ogling me like merely a piece of meat, though." There was heat in Fenris' eyes, pupils blown, and that was the last thing Anders noted before fully giving in to temptation and letting his body - his dick - call the shots.

He had leaned in to finally lick those abs before he knew it. They were hard and slick and salty, quivering under his tongue. Maker, there was more strength in those abs than Anders would think possible- and he got to taste, kiss, lick, nuzzle along one of those lyrium lines and let the metal in it sing to him.

He didn't question the deft fingers unlacing his pants, just focused on the treat he was given access to. He carefully put his hands on Fenris' sides, afraid of what to expect, but _Maker those were just as hard, just as strong, just as slick._ He pressed his cheek against Fenris' abs and enjoyed the chuckle reverberating through them against his face, sighing in bliss.

His hard cock was extracted from his pants with ease, and a tug on his hips had him step forward into reach of Fenris' face. Anders wasn't accustomed to being touched upside down, but it was a remarkably _new_ experience to feel a tongue lap at his cock like this.

It also made him aware of the hard bulge straining against Fenris' legging just above the abs he was still admiring.

Well, he couldn't complain. Who wanted to be friends if you could suck each other's dicks first, right? Anders had sucked cock on people he didn't even know so often, it was a small stretch to do it for his crush- _friend._ Battle partner. Person.

He shook his head and quickly peeled Fenris' legging up his thighs, his mouth watering at the cock coming to hang against those delicious abs. His favourite treat had just gotten an extra topping, it seemed. And Anders was not the man who would waste such an opportunity.

He took Fenris' cock in his mouth at the same time Fenris did so to him, and he shortly flashed his eyes down to make sure Fenris was still alright, hanging upside down as he was. He seemed to be fine - more than fine, when Anders hollowed his cheeks to suck - so Anders went ahead and took some more initiative, relaxing his muscles to sink down on the stiff cock he'd been offered. He let it sink down until it hit the back of his throat, then swallowed to get even deeper, pressing his nose against Fenris' balls with a muffled sound of delight.

The moans Fenris responded with vibrated through Anders' cock, making it twitch and leak - and Anders had to pull back to gasp for breath because the pleasure was too much. The excitement was too much. Not that Fenris was giving him a break.

No, Fenris was there and eagerly sucking him like he'd been wanting to do so for ages, and Anders had to scramble to return the favour. Sticky and salty on his tongue, fluid was dripping from Fenris' member faster than it should for a man currently physically exerting himself. Unless he was extremely turned on - much like Anders was. It made him wonder dimly if Fenris' sense of judgement had been compromised by his harsh work-out.

If that was a possibility, Anders would simply have to assume it didn't make him do anything he didn't want in the first place. Which was a very nice thought in itself, a thought that made him suck a little harder and do that trick with his tongue that always had his lovers garbling nonsense for mercy.

Fenris was no different, Anders' cock released with a wet pop so he could draw breath and make funny, cute noises that had Anders ride up against his face needily. Fenris returned the favour by doing something wicked with his own tongue, and Anders' knees buckled under him for a moment, barely keeping him standing.

It was a fight in itself, just like old days, but much, much more pleasurable. Still, as competitions went, they both aimed to get each other off as fast as possible - a shame, really - and it didn't take long before they tipped over the edge one after another. Fenris was so good though, Anders wasn't entirely sure who 'won' in the end. As long as Fenris didn't know either, it would be fine… he hoped.

Anders took a shaky step back and Fenris hung there, panting and looking mildly distresseddown at the floor before putting his hands down on the stool beneath him, only just reaching it enough for a proper hand stand. Anders stepped aside and stayed vigilant to catch Fenris in case of emergency just long enough for Fenris to come down from his inverse perch, and then they both crumbled to the floor.

"Andraste's frilly knickers… we should do that again…"

Fenris laughed, sounding as breathless as Anders felt. "Yes… yes we should."


	7. Massaging the stress out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-17  
> trans!Anders and trans!Fenris

"For a healer, you take awfully little care of yourself."

Anders sputtered in protest as Fenris pointed commandingly at the examination table in the back of the clinic. Fenris didn't wait to see if his lover would obey, but went to close and lock the door in preparation. His healer needed some stress massaged out, and an open door welcoming patients would not help in that.

"Don't forget the lantern," Anders called out, clearly in need of getting a last word in.

Fenris rolled his eyes and obeyed, dousing the lantern before locking up. When he turned, he found Anders to have moved where he should and without his coat, but fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Fenris didn't hurry to get back to Anders, gave him time to stop his doubting before Fenris calmly reached him and gently took the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head. Fenris leaned in for a slow kiss while prying his fingers under Anders' binder, working that off carefully as well.

"What's the plan?" Anders sounded uncertain, but with this progress he didn't hesitate to rid himself of his pants and smalls as well.

"The plan is you lay down on this nicely padded table you have here, and I massage you until you forgot the word stress altogether."

Anders gave a nervous little laugh. "That sounds nice- also like I have better things to do but-" he held up a hand to stop Fenris from interrupting "-you came all the way down here for it so I'll indulge you this time."

"You will indulge me _every_ time, mage." He made sure to give Anders a quick playful kiss so his lover wouldn't accidentally interpret that the wrong way. Fenris just meant to look out for his mage here, after all, but trying to control him rarely worked out well.

Anders pouted for a moment but climbed onto the table, squirming into a sort of comfortable position on his front. Fenris let him squirm around a bit, knowing it was never quite comfortable on his front, and took the moment to unwrap the package he brought.

When Anders stopped moving, Fenris put his strap-on, harness and all, right in front of Anders' face on the table.

The way Anders' eyes crossed to look at the dick now in front of his nose caused Fenris to snort, but he didn't wait with grabbing Anders' elfroot infused oil and pouring a generous helping in his hand to warm it up.

He spread several handfuls over Anders' back, shoulders and legs, making sure his mage was shining with oil before putting the jar down again.

"Now relax, Anders." He dropped his voice to something husky on purpose and felt the shudder running through Anders' body in response. "By the end of this, I want all tension to be gone. I want just a puddle of relaxed mage on this table."

Anders laughed softly, and Fenris felt some more of the tension drain from the body under his hands. He was always grateful that his lover was so easy to read.

  



	8. Soulmark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18  
> Smut+Angst=Smangst

There were plenty of upsides to this arrangement between Fenris and the mage. Pleasure, release of stress, a sense of intimacy with no strings attached... so far it was all good.

There were a few downsides though, and for the first time Fenris was really forced to face the biggest one.

Anders never took off his shirt when they had sex. Fenris hadn't cared to ask - this was a no strings attached arrangement and the lack of nudity made it easier to stay detached. He didn't want to get feelings for the mage, so it was quite perfect that the mage had this annoying habit of not undressing. It wasn't half as personal like this, not even with his dick up his arse.

This time though... the mage had nearly gotten himself killed earlier, fighting for Hawke. The fool had stepped between Fenris and a rogue that had managed to sneak up from behind, barely parrying a sharp blade with his staff.

His staff was too long, too blunt to properly parry a dagger already so close. The blade had cut a long line over Anders' chest, fabric cutting like paper and blooming red immediately. Fenris had killed the rogue immediately and finished the fight in a frenzy, ready to berate the foolish mage and drag him down to his clinic - only to find the man with an infuriating pout on his face, looking at the ruined shirt. Not bleeding.

_Of course the mage had already healed the wound..._

Fenris had dragged him down regardless to give him a good buggering. He best remember to never give Fenris a scare like that again - not that he cared for the mage's safety... much. Okay, so he did care, but their arrangement was still without feelings. He just cared for a man who fought by his side and healed his wounds on a near daily basis.

He just... cared... but with the ruined shirt ripped off and thrown aside while Fenris fucked Anders into one of the cots, he saw things he had not been prepared to see.

The heavy scarring from whippings, for starters. And the six shining scars from the word 'apostate' burned into his skin, the lines so clean it had to have been a brand, in neat lines from his hip up like each was a notch in a wooden post to count his escapes.

Fenris froze when he uncovered the mess of scarring on Anders' back, and the mage had squeaked a surprised sound beneath him, scrabbling for the blanket he was laying on to cover himself with. To pull it free from his own weight he had to roll himself over - intentionally or not - and that revealed another mark on his body.

That mark was not made by a Templar. That mark was made by fate.

Fenris grabbed Anders' arm before he could cover the purple soulmark on his ribs - very countable ribs, did the mage even eat? - holding the arm in an iron grip so he could stare down at the mark.

A mark he was intimately familiar with.

"Why?"

"S-shut up, let go of me!"

"You knew!"

Anders struggled against his grip, but Fenris refused to relent. For safety, he did pull his dick out of Anders' arse, lest the healer struggle so hard he's break off Fenris' privates. This way he could also straddle the man's thighs and stop his kicking.

"You didn't care! You didn't want- you wouldn't want to know!"

Fenris snarled.

Of course he wanted to know. He always wanted to know.

When he was younger, he was convinced his soulmark matched Danarius', although he never got to see his. Hadriana taunted him saying it matched hers, but she never showed him either.

After killing either, he he made sure to know for once and for all, now finally certain his soulmark was on neither of his abusers.

It was a relief, it was hope. Maybe he could have love, after all. Maybe, just maybe, someone else was out there with the same soulmark, and that person would love him.

"You s-said it didn't mean a-a thing-"

Fenris was shocked to see tears rolling down Anders' cheeks. He wasn't outright sobbing - in fact he looked furious rather than sad, even if his voice told Fenris otherwise - but his eyes were growing puffy and he was sniffling pathetically.

Fenris _had_ said it didn't mean a thing.

In hindsight, he wondered how he could've been so stupid.

After that first time, Anders asked. Anders must've seen his soulmark, so he asked about it, what Fenris thought about it and this arrangement they just started. Fenris had not been in a mood to spoil his post-orgasm bliss - they had fucked in anger and letting go of that aggression had been so relieving - so he'd just scoffed. Didn't want to look weak and emotional to the mage he just fucked.

_'We can have this arrangement until I find my soulmate, and then we part ways. This means nothing.'_

Anders' whole demeanour had changed to disappointment, and back then he'd taunted and accused Anders to be a filthy cheater for wanting Fenris to keep fucking him after finding his soulmate.

Now he realised Anders had been disappointed another reason entirely.

Fenris let his fingers trail lightly over the soulmark, and then Anders bucked for real and managed to throw him off.

He scrambled back to his feet to catch the mage in case he'd try to escape, but Anders only wrapped himself in the blanket, angrily blinking away tears.

"Don't touch me. You were going to leave when you found your soulmate, right? So get the fuck out."

"Mage." Fenris stepped closer - nevermind his exposed crotch, his bloody armour, his dishevelled state. He reached out as if to offer a hug, although he wasn't sure whether that was even a good idea.

_"Get out."_   


"Ma- _Anders_. Please, give me a chance... You knew all this time, you are not being fair."

"I know." Anders hiccoughed, drawing a step back for every step Fenris took closer. "I was selfish and didn't tell you so you wouldn't leave me. You wanted no strings attached, so I made sure you wouldn't find out it wasn't. I lied to you all this time. So get out like you said you would."

"That is not what I said and-"

"You would leave me when you found your soulmate!"

"I would end this arrangement in favour of my soulmate!"

"So put your dick back into your pants and get _out_."

Anders was a hard one to argue with sometimes _._ Fenris always wished he could just _shut him up_ when he was being irate like this- so he did.

He pulled Anders in by the waist, raising on his tiptoes to slant their lips together.

They had never kissed before, and Fenris had no idea this would feel so.... _right_. So perfect.

"I would end this arrangement of fucking you so I could find love with my soulmate," he whispered against the mage's lips. "Please give me a chance." __  
  


Anders stood stiffly for another moment before finally melting into the embrace, sobbing openly.

"Now I know, I can finally admit I actually like you, too." Fenris chuckled softly into Anders' hair, allowing the other to give a hysterical little laugh into his shoulder.  
  
  


This could still be fixed. This was not broken yet.

Fenris could have the love he craved, and even from the person he craved.

Freedom really wasn't half bad.


	9. Old and Wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-15  
> Warnings: the Calling, heavy angst despite appearances, character death
> 
> Sad songs bring sad inspiration

"Anders! Mage? I am home!"

There was no direct response, but that didn't really mean anything. Anders could be busy, not hearing him, or responding in a too low voice for Fenris to hear him. His ears weren't what they used to be, after all. Good riddance too, saving him from the mage's constant prattling.

Didn't save him from all these cats yelling at him. Mage always brought new ones in, then let Fenris feed them.

"Yes yes, I hear you. You can stop your yelling, Ser Yowling." Fenris grunted, waving one hand at the yelling cat. "I fed you this morning, no need to put on theatrics with me. I know you are not starving. Nor you, Little Whiskers."

The little calico headbutted his feet to roll over, laying on her back with a cute little mew that Fenris couldn't hear. He used a foot to slide her aside while making his shaky way over to the counter.

"And where did you put Miss Frolick, hm? Or Mrs Frolick, I should say." He chuckled to himself, quaking arms reaching out for the large jar that held snacks for the cats. It wasn't dinner time yet and he wouldn't feed them, but they could have a snack or two. Anders loved it when he spoiled those cat.

"You hear that, mage?" He called out over his shoulder, even if it was more of a squeaky crowing. Anders wouldn't care. "She is is a real Mrs now! I bet you are lining up names for her kittens and they are not even born yet." He knelt down to feed the hungry little calico and the loud grey tabby their snacks, receiving grateful headbutts, coarse tongues lapping the crumbs off his fingertips, and then the cold shoulder when no more treats came.

He sniggered again, taking a few snacks to find the heavily pregnant cat in their home.

It took him a while to get to the main bedroom, despite their house being quite tiny, but he couldn't really help it with these old legs. There was a time he'd been so fast on his feet, but age had truly caught up with him now.

"If only it had not caught up in my back," he grumbled moodily, rubbing the aching, bent spine as he turned in the doorway of the main bedroom. "Ah, there you are. Naughty Miss Frolick is sleeping on the bed again." He was smiling despite the eternal disobedience of these cats. She was all curled up and looking quite pleased with herself, after all. And Anders loved having the cats next to him on the bed.

"I told you not to let them on the bed," he wagged a finger, just like the mage used to do. He had this playful smile back then, and Fenris tended to nip the wagging finger. Oh, how times changed.

Times changed, cats got on the bed, and Fenris joined them to feed the poor pregnant thing the snacks she well deserved. Her purring was loud and instantaneous, and Fenris smiled contently.

 

When he woke up later from a nap, he had all three cats curled up on and beside him. Miss Frolick on his right where she had been when he joined her, Ser Yowling on the left, and Little Whiskers imitating a loaf of bread right on his chest. She was so tiny, even with his old and creaky bones he was not bothered by her weight. Maker forbid Ser Yowling would try to lay on him like this - or worse, Miss Frolick with her entire litter of kittens in her belly.

"I bet you will give them all terrible names as well," he croaked, voice rough from sleep. "Serah Whoopsie, Knickerweasles... Hmm… what else have you come up with, Anders?"

When the mage did not respond, Fenris let his head drop to the side. It was just Anders' treasured pillow there, the embroidery a bit faded and threads broken here and there from the wear.

Fenris' fingers curled into the fur of Miss Frolick on his side, and she purred loudly for him. Little Whiskers was watching him with bright eyes as he sobbed once, twice.

After that he steeled himself, sitting up and sending the two non pregnant cats scattering.

"Time to build a good nest for the Missus, right? Anders would have been nagging at me to make one for days." His hand rested on the nightstand for a long moment. Not on the letter inside it, which was smudged from how often he read it. Smudged from tears he never wanted to spend.

Anders' goodbye.

Anders' Calling.

Ser Yowling yelled at him for food.

"Yes yes, I hear you! Fasta vass, it is like you never have enough food, you glutton." Fenris groaned and stood, shuffling towards the kitchen. "Just like Anders, you naughty little thing."


	10. A teasing heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18

"Fenris, _please_."

Fenris rolled his eyes in response to the mage's aggressive pleading, quickly shooting a glance at Hawke to make sure they had a moment. Hawke was just talking to the nobles they'd saved from rampaging abominations, ignoring his friends behind him for now.

It was safe enough, with his back to a high wall where he could watch anyone interested in attacking them amidst the carnage on the Hightown streets.

"Fine, do what you must." Anders sagged in relief so Fenris made sure to give him a sharp look. "Do not forget we are in public. I would not like you to be hauled off along with these corpses."

"Fine, fine, no funny business." Anders was digging through his pouches rather than looking up at Fenris' face to answer him.

He pulled out a poultice and some rags, then frowned at how dirty they were. Rather than using them to apply the poultice to Fenris' wounds, he wiped the blood off his hands. And the rags were suspiciously effective too, certainly it had nothing to do with that tiny pull of magic Fenris felt on his brands.

He scowled extra hard for good measure, but Anders ignored his expression completely, simply pouring the poultice over his fingers and dabbing the thick ointment carefully on the cuts and scrapes on Fenris' face and arms.

"You should wear a better armour, with how you fight at the front." Anders sounded disgruntled but it still made Fenris smile. He knew when his mage was just worried, not angry. _His_ mage.

"I have no need of armour that would inhibit my moving. I have someone who has my back with funny business."

"Oh, do you now." Anders pouted, but only for a second. Then a smirk grew on his face like the sun breaking through the clouds- _Venhedis no, that was not a bright laugh that was an evil smirk!_

Before he could question the mage's intent, Anders booped his nose with a poultice smeared finger and twirled around, sidling up next to him backwards. Fenris grunted and quickly rubbed the poultice off his nose, shooting Anders a glare.

At least Hawke was still fully engrossed in his conversation, as well as Sebastian with him. Nobody had to see him with a smear of green poultice on his nose.

The shock came when that was not the mischief Anders had truly intended.

Fenris shot up to stand ramrod straight when he suddenly felt a hand crawling down the back of his leggings.

"Mage!"

He shot a look around to make sure that yes, they stood with their backs to a blind wall and no, nobody was looking. Anders hushed him with a smirk.

"I thought we were trying to not shout out to the Templars to arrest me?"

"We were, until you decided to- ah!" Fenris' eyes widened and he barely kept himself from squeaking when a finger slickly circles his sphincter.

"Just applying poultice to the holes in my lover's body after a nasty fight~"

A terrible ruse of innocence that was an offense to the very word. Especially when the pad of Anders' finger rubbed particularly firmly against the tight ring of muscle, just to sink in slightly.

Just a bit, just a fingertip, but Fenris was trembling and his knees were all but knocking together.

He should really not be so incredibly turned on by the mage deciding to finger his asshole in the middle of the street in Hightown, nobles and Sebastian and _Hawke_ only a few steps away.

"Hm, not sure if this one will close if I just put a little poultice on."

"I-it had better _not_ -"

The finger pushed in deeper without hesitation, and Fenris whimpered. A slow swirl of the finger inside of him was followed by a slow drag out, allowing Anders to push a second finger in.

"I can try to massage it better?" Fenris whimpered again at the hot breath on his ear, both ears twitching violently in reaction. He had not noticed the mage leaning in, and he was glad he stood up straight again immediately. Hawke and Sebastian were not allowed to see this.

He gasped again, arching up on his tiptoes when the mage found a particularly good angle to swirl and curl his fingers. The bastard had the guts to hum pleasurably, just loud enough for Fenris' elven ears to catch it.

Anyone could look at them and see that Anders was fingering his arse right there on the streets, in public. And he was doing a blightedly good job at it too.

At least until Hawke finally turned around, giving them a quick smile. "Ready to move on? There are apparently more of these down at the docks in a warehouse.”

Fenris meant to answer, but all that came came out was a pathetic squeak when Anders tugged his fingers out and deftly removed his hands from his leggings, smiling and answering Hawke like nothing had happened and _how dare he_?

Leaving Fenris hot and bothered and trembling and desperate for orgasm.

"Are ye alrait, Fenris? Ye look like ye've seen a ghost."

Sebastian was suddenly next to him, touching his shoulder worriedly. Fenris jerked in surprise, and then his face flooded with heat.

"N-no, I'm fine. Just remind me to never give in to Anders' healing again?"

He heard Sebastian splutter a “'-isn't that a bit too harsh?" while he stalked off after Hawke and Anders. He was going to need a good revenge for this stunt.


	11. A Happy Mage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18  
> Warning: Elves have knots

Anders was quite certain he had to be mad to agree to this, and yet.

Ever since he'd seen... oh Maker, ever since he found out about Fenris'-

He breathed in deeply and knelt down on the rug in front of the fire, shivering despite the heat. He would be waiting here until Fenris would dare to come out and join him, and he was already hard in anticipation.

Naked, eyes closed but directed to the flickering fire, he waited.

Fenris had been so uncertain about his own anatomy, Anders hadn't spared any enthusiasm to tell him how amazing it was. And despite their differences, Fenris had challenged him to have sex with him, on his terms, to prove him he was not some monster.

Anders eagerness to agree had taken the elf off guard, but here they were going through with it.

On Fenris' terms.

Anders was to fully submit to Fenris and he was not allowed to look. He was to pay Fenris respect, and not even think about making fun of him.

An easy enough task, for the most part. Anders was kneeling in the hope Fenris would make good use of this arrangement.

"Remember the safe word we agreed on?"

Anders jumped slightly on the spot, not having heard Fenris enter, but he nodded quickly.

"Montfort."

Neither of them was likely to call for the recently deceased Duke Prosper de Montfort in their throes of passion, and it left plenty hated topics open for Fenris to taunt him with, if he so liked.

He could hear Fenris padding over now, and his breath hitched slightly when a soft blindfold was slipped over his eyes and fastened. Next were his hands, drawn onto the small of his back and tied together firmly with a soft rope. Fenris tested the give of it and gave a sound of approval before pushing Anders' shoulder.

Anders yelped in surprise, going face down on the carpet. He was expecting to break his nose, but Fenris was at least kind enough to hold onto him and make his landing gentle enough to not damage.

Still a nasty knock to his forehead, and leaving him with his arse high up in the air and no way of doing anything about it.

Luckily he was in no hurry to get out of this position, despite the rough treatment.

Maybe even because of it.

He received a sharp slap to the behind and he squawked, face dragging on the carpet as he jumped again. In reaction, his hip was grabbed tightly to keep him in place before a second slap landed on the other side.

Anders whimpered in arousal, staying still in his blindfolded darkness while Fenris stroked his backside with almost reverence before delivering the next slap.

"Are you ready to take my cock?"

Anders gasped and started babbling immediately. "Yes! Yes I bathed and cleaned and prepared before coming here because I want it, I need it, please give me your cock please I'm ready-"

Another crack of a flat hand on a rounded arse cheek silenced his begging, and and he bit his lip as he fell to a murmur and then a whimper.

"You like it that much?" A little more petting on his backside while Anders vigorously nodded against the carpet, and then his arse cheeks were spread by strong fingers.

Next he knew, a hot, wet tongue was pressing into him, and he cried out and his hips jerked, and then there was that low chuckle of Fenris' amusement that had always been sexy but never quite as much as this.

"Hold still and you shall get all of it."

"Yes please, give me your knot please!"

Anders tried to tilt his hips up more despite the instructions he'd been given, but Fenris seemed the forgiving type. Fenris was probably still too baffled by how much Anders wanted to be filled with that thick knot right above the base of his cock to punish over-eagerness.

"Hold still, mage." He was chuckling again, but then there was a pressure at Anders' hole followed by the thick shaft slowly pressing into the oiled passage.

Anders whimpered and whined for it, wanting more yet needing to adapt. He would not ask Fenris to stop, he wouldn't dream about it! But he felt incredibly big, especially after how long it had been to Anders.

He felt the knot press against his rim and stopping.

"Will it fit?"

"Yes, please yes, just push it in please give it to me-"

"Hush." His wriggling arse received another slap to make him still again, and then fingers were once more spreading his cheeks wide open.

Fenris pushed, but the knot wouldn't penetrate. Anders whimpered for it but it wasn't entering. He tried relaxing his arse, instead ending up kneading Fenris' cock to milk the first moans out of him.

Fenris seemed to give up on this method when he started with the small thrusts, and although it was not what Anders had been begging for, he was delighted with the friction and sensation. He could still feel his cock dripping where it hung heavy between his legs, and he may get a rug burn on one cheek and a shoulder but this was so worth it. He didn't even feel his shoulders ache, just the pleasure of Fenris shallowly fucking him.

He was already begging again, muffled by the carpet and tugging helplessly on his restraints for his need for more. Fenris grabbed his bound wrists to press them down on the small of his back, pressing down on his back for his hips to tilt up even further, wanton for the elven cock.

Fenris sped up, and then with one particularly hard thrust, he was suddenly fully seated.

Anders cried out at the sudden stretch, but Fenris only paused for a second to give Anders the chance for his safeword. When that didn't come - Anders would be mad to make it stop now! - the serious fucking began.

It was all shallow thrusts because Fenris couldn't pull out very far, but for Anders it was hitting all his right spots. He was crying and begging into the carpet for more and harder, to which Fenris complied with heavy grunts and the sharp sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Anders was seeing stars behind his blindfold and a breathless laugh of exhilaration escaped him before he could stop it.

"Happy, mage?" Fenris grunted harshly, his rhythm not letting up.

"E-even h-happ-pier when you c-cum," Anders garbled, and so Fenris did.

And even with an enormously swollen knot locked in his rectum, Anders could only smile brightly between his moans and whimpers, because Maker had he gotten lucky for being allowed this experience.

And when Fenris released his wrists and removed the blindfold, Anders' eyes remained closed with a blissful smile on his face. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and together they managed to lie on their side on the rug by the fire, Fenris spooning Anders with his knot lodged deep inside of Anders.

"D-definitely... a happy... mage...."


	12. Pretty Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-15  
> Merfolk AU

"Well, aren't you just the prettiest little thing?"

Anders heaved the body out of the water, onto the algae slick rock of his favoured stream. It was a bit up from the mouth, where the brackish water lost most of its salinity. It was from experience that Anders knew that most land dwelling creatures had less resistance against seawater than fresh water, and this one sure didn't look like a natural swimmer.

His haul of the day abruptly started coughing up water when Anders gave him a tap on the chest filled with magic, emptying out his lungs violently and heaving for air.

"Silly thing. Lungs really aren't suitable for water. You need gills for that." He helped the cutie to stay slumped sideways for as long as the water came out, gently lowering him down on his back when he seemed done. Anders reached up to move the wet hair sticking to his face away, fingers curiously running over the soft skin and slightly raised white dots on his forehead.

"I have never seen anything like you. All singing lines and graceful arches… my name's Anders."

Anders beamed at the other who managed a weak, confused glower. It was probably an elf, despite the strange lines. Maybe just a subspecies of elves? A very pretty one, that was for sure. A shame Anders hadn't seen them before, because now he wasn't sure what he could and could not do to help the poor thing. His lungs seemed normal enough, but Anders wouldn't dare healing the cuts and scrapes while not understanding what these pretty lines consisted of.

"Fenris."

The elf's voice was hoarse from nearly drowning, but Anders liked the sound of it anyway. He sounded all deep and husky and _sexy_.

"You're pretty." He told the elf, resting his elbows on the rocks next to him. He quirked an eyebrow when he realised this was maybe a little too forward, so he added nonchalantly: "You were also drowning pretty bad. Maybe you shouldn't go that deep if you can't swim?"

"I can swim," Fenris rasped defensively. "I just got… tired. It was further than I thought."

"What was further than you thought?"

"The eyes of Nocen."

"That's what the humans call it here," Anders quipped, raising an eyebrow. "It's _here_ , it's not _far_."

The elf sighed and rolled his eyes, now slowly pushing upright. "It is if you come swimming from Seheron."

Anders had to ponder that for a moment. "Isn't that… the land on the other end, where the giants are fighting the humans? That's… more than a day's swim from here."

"More than a day indeed," the amusement was clear in the elf's voice, until he looked down and froze.

"For you I think it would be several days. These flimsy things can't be very helpful for keeping a good swimming speed." Anders took a few of the elf's toes in his fingers to wriggle them around and Fenris' jerked his feet back.

"You're a mermaid!"

"Mer _man_ for you, mister." Anders smoothed the palms of his hands over his chest to make a point. Smooth, flat chest. No dangly female bits, thank you very much.

"How- why- but-?"

"You were drowning. And pretty. I got curious." Anders came forward to lean his elbows on the slick rock again, his tail gently slapping the streaming water behind him. "My curiosity is partly sated but… will you stay close to the water? Can I meet you again?"

"I need to get back to Master," Fenris cringed a little. "Master was not pleased he had to leave me behind on Seheron. He will be upset when I return, but the longer I take the more upset he'll be."

"Master? You're one of those slaves?" Anders was upright as soon as the realisation hit him, arms stretching and tail beating to lift him up in the air and over the elf. He gracelessly flopped on top of the elf, bodily pinning him. "No way! I did not save you for you to be some human's property! You nearly died!"

"I don't see what difference that makes." To his credit, Fenris didn't really struggle aside from uncomfortable squirming. Anders could feel curious fingers touching his scales, exploring the feel and trying to be subtle about it.

Fenris was likely too exhausted to struggle after nearly drowning. Anders felt a little bad that he was happy about that, but at least it kept Fenris from straight up leaving and go back to being a slave.

"Keeping slaves is wrong," Anders argued, wiggling his arms around the elf to hug him tight. Clinging to him as if that would stop him from leaving. "You are a person, not property."

"Your opinions on right and wrong do not change the facts."

"They did when I saved you from drowning!"

Fenris went silent, and Anders nuzzled the nape of his neck. The elf was soaked and smelled of the sea, having spent days in it, apparently. But underneath was a different smell… it was hard to determine, here up in the air. Anders hated how air dulled his senses, but he wouldn't draw the poor land dweller back in the water now.

"W-why are you… why do you care?"

Anders grinned against Fenris' skin. He was pretty sure the skin was heating up, which was a good sign. He probably flustered the elf with his cuddling, but he could just pretend this was normal behaviour among the merfolk. Not like Fenris could call him out on his lie.

"I care because I put effort in saving you, because you are pretty, because it's the right thing to do, because I like you and I want to know more about you. I can't learn more about you if you go away and be some human's slave." He lifted his face to look the flustered elf in the eye, but didn't release the tight hug. In fact, he curled his tail a little better over Fenris' legs to make sure his own weight wouldn't draw him back into the water. "Stay here with me instead."

"And do what?" Fenris looked very troubled just asking that question.

"Anything!"

"I can't. Thank you for saving me… Anders, but I must return to Master."

"No!" Anders jerked his tail in an angry motion. "I won't let you!"

"Please don't try to stop me. I do not want to hurt you."

Anders looked up, eyes wide at the unexpected threat. Fenris looked pained, but like he meant it.

_By the Lady of the seas, he meant it_ . _He would harm Anders if he tried to stop him_ .

"At least stay until you recover?" he tried meekly instead. "I want to heal your wounds but your skin is alien to me. Stay long enough for me to help."

Fenris hesitated, before slowly nodding. "Until I have recovered."

Anders hid his face in the elf's neck again, hugging him tight. _It wasn't right_.

With every new meeting, Anders opinion of humanity was bound to drop lower.


	13. Deepest Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R-18  
> Warning: Panic attack, PTSD

Even lost in the throes of passion, Anders could pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong. The moment the fiery need in Fenris' eyes glossed over and that slight tilt to his lips like the smirk of a hungry wolf dropped away.

All Fenris did was hitch Anders' hips up higher against his own to allow his to thrust deeper, making Anders cry out with need and his cock lose a small spurt of precome on the particularly nice way Fenris hit his prostate, buried deep inside him.

It had been nothing special, but Anders knew like nobody else how nothing special was needed.

Fenris' breath seemed to shutter and he loomed over, some of the strength draining from his posture as if by instinct. Anders was fairly certain his lover couldn't see him anymore.

"F-Fenris-" He inwardly cursed the breathiness of his voice, passionately hoarse no longer fitting the situation. Fenris kept fucking him, but it was mechanical now. It got scary real quick.

"Fenris stop. What's wrong- Fenri-!" Anders made a muffled noise of protest at a hand clamping over his mouth. Fenris wasn't looking at him, wasn't seeing him, fucking him like it was a chore he needed to do.

Anders was so confused, but even more worried about what this meant.

He lifted his hands, pushing at Fenris' shoulders. The touch had the elf stop abruptly, pulling away entirely from Anders.

Before Anders knew what was happening, Fenris had fallen back on the bed, a small sound of distress tearing from his throat that was so unlike him it almost physically hurt Anders.

He was up on his knees immediately, reaching to hug Fenris tight and hold him. As much as he hated touch under normal circumstances, experience had shown few things could calm him as effectively as Anders' arms and healing aura. So he cast, the aura gentle and soothing, his arms tight only to contain if Fenris would be a danger to himself or Anders.

That too, was taught by experience.

"Fenris, love, hear me listen to me. I'm with you, you're safe with me. It's me, Anders. Listen to my voice love, keep breathing."

Anders knew he had gotten through when his lover suddenly started shaking violently and clung to Anders. He could only be grateful it was such a short attack, that Fenris was pulled out of it so fast.

If only because he could rip Anders to shreds and his only weapon was a hard cock right now. A quickly drooping one, to boot.

"Hush love, we're in this together, I got you." He released one arm carefully, and when Fenris didn't pull away he gently used his free hand to stroke his lover's hair. Something sounding suspiciously like a sob wrecked through Fenris' body, but Anders didn't acknowledge it. Fenris wouldn't appreciate it if he did.

Anders held Fenris like this for what felt like an hour, stroking his hair and whispering reassuring words in his ear like a mantra. As long as Fenris clung to him, he wouldn't move, no matter how confused he felt. He was worried about asking.

He was worried about asking what could possibly cause Fenris to panic like that during sex. What sort of flashback he must've had.

He was worried he could make an educated guess or two.

When Fenris finally relaxed, Anders pulled him down with him, his muscles stiff but trying to lay them down as gently as possible. His healing aura soothed the stiffness immediately, and they could lay together comfortably.

Anders tangled their legs together, still keeping Fenris close.

"Are you feeling better now, love?"

"Yes..." Fenris' voice was hoarse like he'd been crying, even though he had done no such thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Anders feared the answer. He feared what had set Fenris off, and he feared Fenris not trusting him with it equally. He feared the violation in his lover's past and how it would contrast against his own.

"...no," Fenris finally croaked. "Not now. I want to forget, for now. It leaves a bitter taste."

Anders shifted so he could carefully brush their lips together. Fenris reciprocated shyly at best, and Anders sighed wearily, worried.

"Alright love. Let's cuddle a little longer and then I'll get you some water and food, alright?"

"Wine?"

"Water."

He could feel the twitch and downturn of Fenris' ears - or the one not pressed into the pillow - and he smiled, eyed flickering up to check his lover's face.

The pout was all he needed to see to know things would be fine.

Fenris would fall again, as would Anders himself. But in the end, things would be fine.

Together.


	14. Come back to bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [art by sparklingdwarf](https://sparklingdwarf.tumblr.com/post/160016573479/i-see-a-sleepy-faces-meme-r1-for-fenris-please)  
> Rating: All Ages

It wasn’t unusual for Anders to wake up in the middle of the night with a flash of inspiration for his manifesto. Justice hated idleness and it was hard enough to sleep as is, so with new ideas for his manifesto… well, it was a lost cause to even try stay in bed.

So he never did. If he woke up in the middle of the night - even if it was from a nightmare, to be honest - he would get up, wrap himself up in the warm threadbare blankets and shuffle over to his desk to write by the light of a single candle until he either fell asleep again, or patients arrived.

More than once this had resulted in Hawke scolding him on his sleeping habits, and if asked professionally, Anders would entirely agree. But…it wasn’t a habit he could break. Not with the injustice of the Circle still going on and mages likely being abused in the Gallows that very second, despite the hour of night. Because of the hour of night,

It just never happened before on a night he had stayed with Fenris for… reasons Justice couldn’t really argue, because he couldn’t really understand it. At least he had the decency to disapprove in silence on these occasions, and he would let Anders stay without troubling his mind with more thoughts of the injustices and the injured.

But Justice couldn’t keep him safe from the nightmares, and even Fenris couldn’t keep him safe from that particular brand of Darkspawn nightmares, so the night he’d bolt upright in the dilapidated mansion was bound to come. Sleep would refuse to come after that, so Anders had shuffled off with an abandoned sheet from the floor around him to find paper, ink and a quill.

He’d had half the mansion before he found a fairly intact desk with everything he needed. The quill was cracked dry, but if he wrote in large print it would be fine. The ink was mostly dried out, but that too was easily helped with a touch of magic. The paper was only moth eaten on the one edge.

“..the Templars only emphasize the injustices of racism against the elves with frequent raids on alienages. Wasn’t it Andraste who urged Shartan to fight for his freedom? Why are elves still cooped up in alienages, like slaves in their confinements waiting to be called up by their masters, where they can easily be raided for traces of magic? Elves are treated with no regard by the Templars, even less so than humans, beating information out of innocent bystanders for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Raids to find hidden mages in alienages are particularly violent, as if Andraste taught us they were less-”

“Anders…” Anders froze at the sleepy voice behind him, his feverish muttering as he wrote stopping short. “Come back to bed…”

Anders felt his breath hitch, and for a moment his eyes burned. Like he was about to start crying, only he had no idea why he would. There was no good reason for getting emotional other than the fact that Fenris followed him to call him back to bed with him, as if that was where he belonged. As if Fenris required more from him than just sex, as if Fenris enjoyed to curl up against his side like he did or get suffocated by Anders’ sprawling limbs or-

“I-I’m coming,” he muttered shakily, tapping the ink off his quill and placing it carefully in its stand. He closed the ink jar only out of habit before pushing himself up from the rickety chair, finding his legs wobbly when he turned and saw the adorable sight his lover made, squinting at him through sleepy eyes and a pillow still clutched to his chest.

“Good.” Anders could almost fool himself into believing the answer was gruff, only he couldn’t when the elf was making that face at him.

“Did you miss me?” He teased, trying to keep his tone light when he came over and wrapped an arm around Fenris to lead him back to the bedroom, back to his bed.

“’f course,” came the faint answer, followed by a yawn. “Always miss my mage when he isn’t there…”

Anders could feel his heart soar and he grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to his lover’s hair.

“Right, of course. Sorry, Love.”


End file.
